Luce Solus
by ElysiaDreaming
Summary: Christmas is about spending time with the people you love, about celebrating life and good cheer. At least, that's what it's supposed to be about. After the fight...I don't really know anymore. Jaune and Pyrrha muse about the meaning of Christmas, love, and life. JaunexPyrrha, with a rather Depressed!Jaune. As requested by Sakurabythesea.
1. Part I

**A/N: Merry (early) Christmas! Sorry for the lack of progress on Black Dragon, as school's been killing me. Plus, I've been working on this, as requested by my friend Sakurabythesea. Final chapter should be done and uploaded on Christmas Eve, for your enjoyment.**

**Luce Solus means Only Light. **

**Disclaimer: RWBY and all characters represented are owned by Rooster Teeth and Monty Oum. **_**Christmas Lights**_** is owned by Coldplay.**

* * *

**Luce Solus**

"_Just walk away from those window sills/But I can't believe she's gone/When you're still waiting for the snow to fall/Doesn't really feel like Christmas at all…"_

**Him**

They say that Christmas is a time for loving, a time when friends and family get together to enjoy themselves and each other's company. They say that giving is better than receiving; that showing your love for someone is more important than them showing their love for you. They say that the only true gift is friendship and love, and that presents only symbolize that love, nothing more.

And maybe they're right. After all, most of Remnant is enjoying this holiday on this chilly night. Some of them are at home with family, others have gone out with friends to go skating or just enjoy the lights. They're all so happy, caught up in their own little worlds of contentment and cheer.

Not that I would know, anyways. Tonight, I'm spending my time cooped up in my team's room. Oh sure, team RWBY is certainly having fun. The four girls have gone out, Yang saying something about taking them out for drinks and a party. Ren and Nora have already gone home for the holidays, and won't be back for another two weeks or so. Velvet's working with a toy drive for Faunus children, alongside Sun and surprisingly team CRDL.

And me? I'm just sitting on my bed, wondering what made me think that faking my way into Beacon was a good idea. Everyone by now knows, of course, but they've mostly taken it in stride and good humour. I'm not depressed I faked my transcripts, but because I honestly haven't really made good friends with many people here.

Well sure, my teammates are definitely friendly to me, but there isn't much interaction between us. I guess I'm kinda-friends with Ruby, but given her hyperactive personality she's eventually made friends with just about everyone here in this academy. As for the rest of her crazy team…don't even get me started.

And so I find myself lonely on Christmas Eve, cursing myself and everything around me. Nobody cares about me, anyways. I mean, just look around! Everybody's given gifts to each other; even Blake and Weiss have made up and swapped presents. Despite it all, though, they've somehow accidentally 'forgotten' poor little Jaune Arc. The underside of Nora's bed is stuffed full of wrapped boxes, our team's little tree standing guard over a dozen presents in the corner.

I don't even bother going over there to check the names, though. I know mine isn't going to be on any one of them.

You know, I grew up in a small village with almost nobody to care for me. I was all alone for much of my life, my only company being a small rabbit that I had adopted when I was five. My father had died early during a hunt gone wrong, a flock of Nevermores he was stalking ripping him to shreds. My mother was an emotional wreck, saying little and doing even less. So I honestly was left to fend for myself, and a simple gift-giving holiday was the least of my priorities.

But when I came here to Beacon, I thought that things would change. I thought that I would finally meet people who would be proud to stand beside me and call me their friend and comrade, people who would actually care about me for who I am, not by my actions. And perhaps I did, but not in the way I'd hoped for.

Instead, what I've gotten is a beautiful partner who I don't deserve, and a pair of equally skilled warriors that could trounce me in a fight blindfolded and with a hand tied behind their backs. So perhaps it's no surprise at all that I haven't gotten anything, no surprise that I have nobody to come wish me a merry Christmas and spend some time with me.

What's the point, anyways? Why should the others waste their time on a failure like me? There's no reason for them to want to spend their Christmas with me, after all. We're not even that close, anyways.

My eyes stray back to the pile of presents under the tree, my mind focusing more on the symbolism of the thing rather than the objects themselves. I sigh, but nothing more.

I'm not jealous of them. I'm not jealous that they have people who love them; that they have loved ones that care about them. I'm not jealous that they have people to share their love and joy with; that they can enjoy their night in the company of others. I'm not jealous that Ren and Nora can get together so easily, that she actually reciprocates his feelings.

No, I'm not jealous. That feeling pooling in my gut is most definitely not anger at myself and the world, and I do _not_ have the urge to severely maim something right now. No, I am not jealous of everyone else here in Beacon.

So why do I feel like ending it all?

I'm brought back to that moment on the rooftop, when I destroyed the heart of the woman I love and my own at the very same time. I had pushed her away, brushing aside her attempts at helping me without a second thought. When she left, I had honestly contemplated jumping.

Just a small step, and everything would have been over. All my problems would have been solved, and nobody would have had to waste their time with me any longer. So what stopped me?

Perhaps it was the hope that I still had the chance to stop everything from spiralling out of control, that I could still fix the mess before it escalated. But I screwed up. While Pyrrha and I had mended our friendship, any chance that I would have had of turning it into something more had died that night. It was a test, of sorts, and I had failed her.

She's so smart, so beautiful, so skilled. And she deserves better than me, whether she realizes it or not. So I started to push her away.

At first it was subtle, small signs that were hints of things to come. Perhaps I would sit next to someone else in class, or go do some combat practice on my own. Maybe I would eat my lunch up on the roof, or just sit on my bed studying instead of socializing with the team.

I'm a terrible leader, and my team already knows that. Nobody cares about me, after all. So why should I bother trying?

There's a ridiculously cheery Christmas song playing on the radio, going on about silver bells and a white holiday. It's a load of lies anyways. There's no snow on the ground, even this late in December. And if you're still waiting for a sign, a chance, or even for the bloody snow to fall, it's not really Christmas, is it?

I sit up from my bed as I sigh, turning my gaze onto a picture taken of my team right after Initiation. We looked so happy back then, so innocent and full of hope. It's hard to believe that that was just a few months ago, how much we had changed in the span of mere weeks.

My eyes are drawn away from Ren and Nora, the two of them hand-in-hand like the partners-not-partners they are. Instead, I settle upon me and Pyrrha, our eyes sparkling and wide shining smiles on either of our faces. My arm is on her shoulder, in the biggest show of confidence that I've had since I was two. There's a deep red blush on her face, but her grin of happiness is clear for all to see.

Perhaps a short while ago, I would have considered that a sign of a possibility. Now, I see it as a hint of what could have been. If, perhaps, I hadn't ruined our tenuous relationship, then maybe it might have been something more. Instead, I'm reminded of my momentous failure and yet another reason why I don't deserve her.

I doubt she likes me, anyways. Picking me as her partner was just her taking pity on a helpless kid, her training just an attempt to help the team as a whole. But she shouldn't waste her time and effort on me. I'm not good enough for her, for the team.

I love her. But sometimes, if you love something, you have to let it go.

And so I let her go, hoping that she would know why I did it. After all, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that she's way out of my league.

But she didn't take the hint, so I started getting more serious about it. At first she took it roughly, which was sad but just about what I expected. She was more depressed than ever during those few days, but nothing compared to what I was feeling. If anything, I felt like a total jerk for doing this to her. It was like a stab in the back to treat her like this, but I consoled myself with the fact that everything would eventually get better.

Oh, was I ever wrong.

A week or so in, the worst happened: _She accepted it._

My heart shattered like the moon at the realization, but she simply acted indifferently. The sad part was that all through the while, I guess I harboured one last, tiny hope that she cared. Now, that final light at last flickered and died. And with it, my dreams.

So here I am, at the end of it all, sitting on my bed and staring out the window on Christmas Eve, just waiting for the snow to fall. I'm simply waiting for a chance to restart anew, to create a new beginning in this chapter of my life.

This Christmas, some people are wishing for snow. Others are wishing for presents.

Me? I'm just wishing for a chance to make it all up to the woman that I love.

* * *

**Her**

Christmas is about spending time with the people you love, about celebrating life and good cheer. At least, that's what it's supposed to be about.

How am I to be spending time with the man I love if he doesn't love me back? How am I to celebrate life if mine is a catastrophe? How am I to be in good cheer if I am in perpetual sorrow?

Jaune hates me, I realize, and nothing I can do can change that cold hard fact.

I'm in Vale, in a coffee shop, trying and failing to drown my sorrows in sickly-sweet caffeine. I was looking forward to tomorrow, for once, but the argument just a few hours ago changed all that.

It started simple, just a minor misunderstanding between Jaune and me. I don't even know how it escalated so quickly. At first it was just me asking what he was doing for Christmas, planning to maybe ask him to spend it with me. He started getting all defensive though, and stupidly I didn't get the hint.

Before I knew it, voices were raised. I kept pleading with him, stammering apologies, but he wouldn't have any of it. I tried to reason with him, doing my best to repair the damage that we both had caused, but he just pushed me away with tears in his eyes.

I had left the dorm sobbing, trying to understand why he had done such a thing. I love him. Why couldn't he just love me back?

I take a sip of my latte, blinking back salty tears with my head down. The radio's playing some cheery song, the exact opposite of my current mood. Outside, the skies are grey and gloomy. Not a speck of snow is falling, not like it'd make much difference to me.

I don't understand. What did I do wrong? What did I do to make him hate me so much? Was it me? Was it my training? Was it…someone else? No. It couldn't be…could it?

Perhaps I'm overcomplicating things. Perhaps he just isn't what I thought he was. Perhaps I had just put him up on a pedestal, blind to his true being. But the Jaune I know isn't a thoughtless, heartless jerk.

So it's Christmas night. Another fight, and I cried a flood of tears. After all, when you're alone and waiting for the snow to fall, it doesn't really feel like Christmas at all.

The bells adorning the café's doors jingle, but I ignore them. Probably just someone else wasting their lonely Christmas Eve.

I sink my face lower to the table, not willing to look outside the window to see the bright, cheery lights. They remind me of happier times, of times long gone. Instead, my eyes slowly close, a single tear dripping down my cheek.

Why, Jaune? Why?

Light footsteps approaching me shake me out of my misery, though I refuse to turn to see who it is. With luck, they can tell that I'm not exactly in the mood to talk.

"Good evening, Miss Nikos. Might I ask why you are spending such a delightful Christmas Eve alone?"

My eyelids slowly flutter open as I turn to face the white-haired headmaster of Beacon Academy, his small black spectacles slightly askew as he looks at me with a questioning expression. He takes a sip of his coffee as he appraises my face, a look of understanding quickly overtaking him.

"Oh. Is something the matter, my dear?"

He steps forward, extricating a package of tissues from somewhere in his coat and offering it to me. I shakily take it from his hand, nodding gratitude as I wipe down my tears-stained face.

Ozpin sits down in the armchair across from me, a faux fireplace flickering away a few feet away. He rests his mug on the low table, taking off his glasses to clear away the fog before replacing them on the end of his nose. He does not say anything for a moment, his eyes scanning over my miserable hunched-over form.

Then, as if prompted by an invisible signal, he speaks.

"Generally, Miss Nikos, I wouldn't deem it fit to interfere in what I assume are rather…personal matters. However, I have noticed that the results of team JNPR have been slacking, more specifically yours and Mister Arc's. Now, the two of you are what I like to call some of Beacon's more…gifted students. As such, I take a rather vested interest in your collective wellbeing, more so than that of other students. Don't get me wrong, I am most assuredly not playing favourites. It's just that I'd hate to see your tenure at Beacon go to waste simply because of a little intra-team mishap.

"My job, Miss Nikos, is to ensure that each and every single student in my academy succeeds to the best of their abilities, and fully fulfills their potential. So please, pray tell. What ails you, my dear?"

I am only vaguely aware of what he says, my mind too focused on 'Mister Arc' to think clearly. Stupidly, I say the only thing—or rather, _name_—that is on my mind.

"It's…Jaune, sir."

Another damned tear streaks a hot path down my cheek, and my face warms up as I start to stutter.

"W-we…we had a fight. I tried to comfort him, but…he pushed me away. I…d-don't know what to do."

To his credit, Ozpin didn't interrupt me, only reaching over to wipe the single teardrop away.

"I…I love him, sir. It's just…I'm not too sure if he loves me back. Whenever I tried to get closer to him, he just backed off. Was it something that I did, or…?"

I'm not ashamed to say that I ranted for a while. My tears had disappeared eventually, even as my words replaced their flow with a torrent of emotion. The headmaster just listened, occasionally nodding or murmuring agreement.

I talked about meeting the blond boy, about enjoying time with him and helping him through his troubles. I talked about that fateful night on the rooftop, and the debacle in Forever Fall. I talked about the aftermath of that, and our nightly training that we used to do. I talked about him gradually drifting away, and how it led to our argument. I talked about my feelings towards him, and how lost I felt.

All the while Ozpin paid rapt attention, looking away only to take the odd sip of his coffee. At the end of it all, I sat back in the armchair, exhausted. I half-expected him to laugh in my face at my immature problems, but instead he merely leaned back.

He takes another sip from his mug before replying, his words spoken in a level and clear measure that had a calming effect to them.

"Well, Miss Nikos. It appears as though you and your leader need to have a little chat or two. Preferably one that isn't as…upsetting to the both of you. Now, I'm no Professor Port, but I have had quite a few relationships in my time. They all had their ups and downs, but the current one seems to be progressing quite well. As such, I can honestly say that he seems to be a bit, ah, _insecure_ about himself. After all, despite your training, it is plain for all to see that he has not yet unlocked his potential at a level to even come close to matching you.

"You're a smart, beautiful young girl with lots of potential, and I have to say that it's nice just to talk to you. I'd guess that Mister Arc needs to realize that you truly do love him, and that he is indeed good enough for you. Only once he figures that out can you and he resolve your troubles in whichever way you see fit, and not a moment before. Best of luck, Pyrrha Nikos, and may you have a Fiery Victory. It's been an education simply speaking with you. Good evening."

He stands up slowly, walking out the door with mug in hand. I'm left sitting there staring at the empty seat before me, thinking and remembering.

I remember when teams RWBY and JNPR used to come here, all eight of us, just enjoying ourselves. That was before the night on the rooftop, before this whole mess happened. Oh, how happy and full of energy we were.

Now, it's just me, slumped in an armchair all alone.

I blink away the depressing thoughts, letting my eyes wander outside to alight upon the shining lights. The streets are painted as a veritable rainbow, asphalt stained red and green and white.

They symbolize love and happiness, hope and contentment, peace and prosperity. But for all that, all they do is just shine away without a care in the world. Come love or heartbreak, they keep shining on.

Perhaps we can all learn from them. No matter what happens, we should just live our lives the way we want to. Forget the bad things that happen; just focus on the good. Maybe then we'd be happy with ourselves.

I'm probably just feeling the caffeine rush, as the thoughts make no sense even within the confines of my mind. I don't know.

What I _do_ know, however, is that I need to make an apology. And maybe, just maybe…there's a chance that this can work.


	2. Part II

**A/N: Hai. Well, since I live in Canada, we had a major ice storm last night. Guess what? EVERYTHING IS FROZEN. Go figure. So I have far too much time on my hands to write this. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: RWBY is owned by Rooster Teeth, _Christmas Lights_ is owned by Coldplay.**

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**Part II**

"_Like some drunken Elvis singing/I go singing out of tune/Singing how I always loved you darling and I always will…"_

**Him**

It's funny how mad you can be during an argument, and then an hour later you can see the whole thing as just one big stupid mess. As the old saying goes, hindsight is in 20/20 vision. You can look back on it perfectly well, but however much you wish you could, you can't change anything.

I'd give anything just for a chance to make it all up to Pyrrha. I honestly would. It's just…I don't think that she would forgive me. She'd be well within her rights not to. I mean, with the things that I put her through, I don't think anybody would forgive me.

I'm standing on the rooftop, that same rooftop where Pyrrha and I used to spend so much time together. The cool winter air chills me to the bone, even under the jacket that I'm wearing. From up here, I can see the whole of Beacon. The campus looks so small from up here, the statue in the courtyard seeming a whole lot less imposing. The pools in the garden are frozen over, a small layer of frost formed on the grass. No snow yet, though.

I bite back a sigh at the sight, lost in my regret. What if I hadn't been such an ignorant jerk? What if I was more sensitive, more caring? What if I hadn't pushed my love away? The thoughts echo through my mind, overwhelming any contentment that I may have had from the view.

All I can think about is Pyrrha, about how badly I messed up. It sounds hollow even to me, but maybe I had a chance with her. Just maybe…but not anymore. From that night on the rooftop, to Forever Fall, to the fight just hours ago, nothing I can do can get her to forgive me. And maybe that's for the best.

She deserves someone who won't hurt her like I did, someone who she can talk to and share her problems with. She deserves someone who can comfort her, not someone who she needs to comfort. She needs a hero, not another damsel in distress. And that someone isn't me.

It would be so simple just to take a step. Just to end it all. The ground looks so inviting from up here. It seems so soft, almost like an emerald green sea. All it would take is a single step, a short drop, and it would all be over.

But no. That would be the easy way out. I refuse to continue to be a coward.

I halt my footsteps at the threshold, a single slightly raised inch of brick all that stands between me and deliverance. Oh, how easy it would be to put a stop to this mess.

The sound of the door to the roof opening puts a stop to my thoughts, and I whirl around in surprise. The momentum nearly sends me careening over the edge, but I manage to stop myself just in time.

A white-haired bespectacled man nursing a mug of coffee and adorned in a green blazer steps through the door, giving me a nod of acknowledgement before stepping forward. The headmaster stops beside me, his glasses perched on the end of his nose and mug at his lips. He blinks for a moment, then turns to me.

"Good evening, Mister Arc. What a wonderful night to spend alone, wouldn't you say?"

I stay silent, resolutely staring straight ahead. The lights of the Beacon Tower look so peaceful, the bells lit up red and green to add to the holiday spirit.

"Of course, I'm one to talk; Professor Goodwitch is currently with her family, leaving me here in solitude for the winter break. Nonetheless, might I ask why someone such as yourself is all alone on this fine evening? I'm sure you have plenty of friends to enjoy your time with, after all."

Ozpin takes another sip from his mug, one eyebrow raised and his face slightly turned towards me. I don't answer him, my eyes narrowing for a moment. No. I will not give in.

"I daresay that I thought you would be spending some time with the lovely Miss Nikos," he continues. "I assumed that the two of you were best of friends, if not more."

I try to restrain myself, but his words pull the trigger on me and loosen my resolve. The emotions come spilling out before I know it, unstoppable in their flow.

"Sir, I screwed up. I had everything I could ask for, and I pushed it all away. Pyrrha and I had a fight, and it ended with the both of us in tears. I don't know what happened. Something inside me just…snapped.

"I don't know what to do, sir. Maybe it's because I've been distancing myself from her for the past month. I don't know. What I do know is that I love her; I love her with all my heart. But she deserves better than me."

I pause for oxygen, exhausted and panting from the sudden onslaught of feelings. The chill air doesn't help much either, freezing my lungs with every breath I take. The professor doesn't say anything, though. He's silent as though contemplating my words, giving me nothing but an imperceptible nod. _Go on._

I continue, my voice choking up with emotion as the words carry my burdens away.

"Sir, I know I don't deserve her, but…I want a chance to fix my mistakes. I want a chance to repair my friendship with her, or at least settle our differences. I'd settle for just friends, anything just to make her happy again. But I don't know how to do it.

"Please sir, please help. I'll do anything for her. _I love her_. Just tell me something. Just give me a sign."

The headmaster stands still for a moment, lost in thought. He finishes up his mug, the white rose on it slightly muddled with frost. After what seems like an eternity, he speaks.

"It seems to me, Mister Arc, that you're selling yourself short. You're a far cry from the helpless blond boy that faked his way into my school four months ago, you know. Oh, don't look so surprised. I'm not _that_ oblivious, despite evidence to the contrary. If I had wanted you gone, you would never have even arrived here in the first place. But I digress.

"Like I said, you've improved tremendously in your short time here in Beacon. Your team is lucky to have a leader such as yourself. I gather that Miss Nikos is rather adamant about your abilities and worth both on and off the battlefield, despite your misgivings. Please. Have some confidence in yourself, for once."

He cracks a small smile, a knowing look in his eyes. Maybe, just maybe…he's right. I still have my misgivings about this, but…do I have a chance? Maybe I can fix this. All of this.

"Thank you for the advice, Professor Ozpin. Uh…I have an apology I need to make."

He waves me off as I leave, already taking out his Scroll to check something.

"Yes, yes. Run along now, Mister Arc. Best of luck. Oh, and please convey my regards to Miss Nikos. She seems to be correct in her beliefs."

I keep walking out the door back into the warmth of the building, not catching his last few remarks. My Scroll is emitting a quiet tone in my pocket, signifying a new message. I wonder how long it's been ringing for?

Not wanting the headmaster—or for that matter anyone else, not like there's many people still around—to listen in on the voice message, I walk back into the dorm. I give Pyrrha's empty bed a long, lingering look, our things strewn all around the room. The fight was short, quick, and heartbreaking, but I push the thoughts from my mind.

I tap the 'open' icon, an image of my beautiful partner appearing on the left of the screen. Her eyes seem so lively, so cheerful in this picture, almost as if she's about to leap out of my Scroll and back into my life. The message starts playing, her normally soothing voice hesitant and hoarse. A single tear rolls down my cheek when I hear her, a small smile appearing on my face.

"Hey Jaune. I-I…I'd like to talk. With you. Meet me in the White Rose, the one where we used to go. You remember, don't you? I'll be waiting."

Her voice cuts off in an instant, leaving me yearning for more. Is this a chance? Can I redeem myself, even after all that I've done to her? That remains to be seen, but at least it's a hope.

I clean up the room a little, replacing pillows and picture frames. I finish in a few minutes, stopping myself only to change before running out the door. The school has a small fleet of vehicles available for student use, mostly outdated cars and motorbikes. There's a few in fairly good condition, however, and I sign out a Toyota Toutatis.

I take myself to Oxford Street, trying to right a wrong. The Christmas lights paint a rainbow in the night sky, streaking by in a dazzle of colour. Maybe she'll forgive me. Maybe not. All I know is that I have to try, regardless of the outcome.

* * *

**Her**

Is it just me, or does a black sky look a lot more inviting when you're inside? From the streets, it seems like it's trying to consume you. From the safety of a glass window, it merely appears to be another fixture of the night. It doesn't hurt that the buildings are lit up red and green and white, infusing everything with an atmosphere of cheer.

I close my Scroll for the tenth time in an hour, sick of checking whether or not he's replied yet. I can't help but feel a bit paranoid, already missing his voice. Granted, the last time I heard it wasn't exactly in the best of circumstances. It's just that there's something about his voice that makes me weak at the knees, something about his adorably boyish face that turns mine as red as my hair.

I shut my eyes but for a moment, dreaming of my _very_ desirable partner. It's true, his awkwardness may turn others away, but I can see something in him that nobody else can. I love him. All I want to know is whether he will return the favour.

It's funny; you spend your whole life just waiting for the right person, but when you find him, it turns out he's not waiting for you. I guess I was always accustomed to guys throwing themselves at my feet, rather than the other way around as it is with Jaune. Nobody can be that oblivious, at the very least.

I sigh, a sigh filled with longing and despair. What if he was still mad at me? What if he saw the message, but didn't want to come? The possibilities whirl through my head, and I do my best to force them down. Focus, Nikos.

The chimes by the door jingle, and I whip my head around excitedly. Is it…? But no, it's only someone else trying to evade the chill breeze. I lower my eyes again, downcast. Where could he be?

I convince myself to relax, sitting back in my armchair to think about the next hour or so. If he comes, _when _he comes, what am I going to say? Do I just straight-out confront him? Apologize? I honestly don't know.

I glance around the café for a second, checking to see if there's any unwanted company. Apart from a few girls gathered at the far end, there's nobody else here. Thus reassured, I close my eyes and think for a moment before speaking.

"Jaune, I'm sorry that you hate me, sorry that I acted in a way that makes you think you're not good enough. …No, too upfront. Hmm… Jaune, I love you. I don't care what you think of yourself, you're good enough for me. …What did I just say about being upfront?"

The barista is giving me a strange look, reminding me that I'm fairly loud when I mutter. Unrepentant but suitably chastened, I resolve to restrict my apology practicing to a two-metre radius.

"_Oh, Jaune…"_

"…Pyrrha? Are you in here?"

I look up in surprise, my eyes greeted with the sight of a downcast blond boy. He's wearing a grey felt coat, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and a black toque covering his flaxen hair. His hands are shoved inside his pockets, and I can tell he's cold even in the warmth of the shop. He's standing at the entrance, door slightly ajar behind him from the wind. It's almost as if he's afraid to come in. Maybe it's because he is.

He looks around the café, his eyes passing over the little alcove where I am seated. I shiver despite myself, though not from the cold.

"Jaune. Over here."

My voice sounds hoarse and faint even to myself, but he somehow manages to hear me just fine. I stand up to give him a better view, his sapphire eyes locking onto my own. They light up, and I feel the beginnings of a small smile about to form on my face. The moment is all too short, though, and he quickly looks down at his own feet. His footsteps come closer to me nonetheless, thumping dully upon the hardwood floor.

Just before he reaches the armchair, he pauses. The hesitation on his face is plain to see, the pain in his eyes clearly visible. A flood of memories seems to wash over me as he awkwardly stands there, of better times in far warmer weather.

We used to come to this place all the time in the fall, sometimes just the two of us, and sometimes the whole gang. It didn't matter who came with us though. All that I cared for was always next to me, always laughing with me, always enjoying his time with me. That was before that blasted evening on the rooftop, before this whole fiasco started.

I remember how we used to swap stories over our coffees, chatting excitedly about home and school. It wasn't important that we had heard all of each other's stories a dozen times already, as long as we were together. I would laugh at all his jokes, and he would crack a nervous grin and chuckle at all of mine. I wish he had seen the signs that I was interested in him, that I loved him.

But he always held me at arms length, never trying to go further. Perhaps that's why I loved him, because he was so innocent and full of potential. Any other guy would spring upon the chance to hit on me, but all Jaune did was be my friend. Maybe that was for the best, at least in his mind. In mine, I was screaming at him to shut up and kiss me. Not like that ever happened, to say the least.

The memories fade away as he takes his seat, nearly collapsing into the armchair with a sigh of reluctance. My arms are crossed as I stare at him from across the low table, his own hands still sheathed in his coat pockets. We're silent for a minute or so, with him moving only to tap out his order on the menu.

The barista hands Jaune his order quickly and quietly, the tension between my partner and me clearly visible. She walks away swiftly, but my eyes do not stray from the blond opposite me.

I want to pour my heart out to him, to tell him I love him. I want to hold him, to tell him that I am truly, truly sorry. I want to have him, to tell him that I'll never let anything get between us again.

But for all that, I can't. Despite all my practicing and bracing myself for this moment, the words die with a whimper inside my throat.

And so we just sit there, my eyes on him and his fixated on the floor. It feels like an eternity, though it most likely just barely spanned five minutes.

The café is lit by candles, their flames above me flickering as they float. I find it ironic, even as I hang on to these chandeliers of hope. What do the lights care for, as long as they can shine? They're so full of life, yet so easily extinguished by a careless gust of wind. Much like love, fickle as it is.

After a lifetime, he speaks. He's quiet, his voice barely carrying over to my straining ears.

"Pyrrha…I'm sorry for everything. I've been a terrible leader, a terrible teammate, a terrible friend. I'm sorry that you were burdened with me during Initiation, that you had to protect me while we were fighting for our lives. I'm sorry that I stole your rightful place as team leader, that I dragged the whole team's marks down with me. I'm sorry that I lied to you about my position here at Beacon, that I hid the truth from all of you. I'm sorry for that night on the rooftop, when all this came out and I did nothing to stop it.

"I'm sorry for pushing you away, for not resisting Cardin and fighting back. I'm sorry for nearly getting you attacked by Rapier Wasps in Forever Fall, for allowing myself to be pushed around by a bully. I'm sorry for weighing you down and causing you sleepless nights, for taking time away from your own training to help bring me up to par with everybody else. I'm sorry for ignoring you, all of you, and for walling myself off.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you, for shattering both our hearts. I'm sorry for ruining your Christmas Eve, for not letting you be happy. I'm sorry that I'm such a soulless jerk, no better than the monsters we hunt down and slay. I'm sorry that I'm not good enough for you, and for wasting your time right here and now. And I'm sorry that you ever had the misfortune of meeting me, that I ever thought I could dare to stand tall beside you.

"I'm sorry, Pyrrha. I really am. Have a good Christmas. Have a good life. I won't hold you back any longer. Goodbye, forever."

And with that, my love stands up and walks away, leaving me speechless in his wake. A lonely tear rolls its way down my cheek, and I just sit there for a moment. I'm shaken out of my daze by the sound of the bells chiming, and the café door easing itself shut.

I get to my feet quickly, leaving a bill and some change on the table before rushing after him. The door slams closed behind me as I run, the chill winter breeze already clawing and biting at my body. My breath comes out in a cloud of mist, my legs pursuing his retreating back.

"Wait! Jaune! Come back!"

My echoing words fall upon deaf ears, the love of my short life steadily fading away from me.

A sob wracks my body as I speed up, calling at him to cease his flight.

My throat aching from the exertion, I whisper, "Please Jaune…I love you…"

* * *

**Final Chapter is out on Christmas Eve! (Tuesday)**

**Read, review, enjoy.**

**-Rafen**


	3. Part III

**A/N: Merry [Insert preferred holiday here] everyone! This here is the final installment of Luce Solus, and I have to say it was pretty fun to write. ...Yeah, writing romance is actually fairly fun (manliness -9001 pts) In any case, enjoy!**

**RWBY is owned by Rooster Teeth, _Christmas Lights_ is owned by Coldplay. I own nothing, because I am poor and Asian.**

* * *

**Part III**

"_Those Christmas lights/Light up the street/Maybe they'll bring her back to me…/Then all my troubles will be gone…/Those Christmas lights, keep shining on…"_

**Him**

Why do I have to run away from everything? I keep telling myself that it's for the best; that Pyrrha deserves far better than me. She doesn't deserve to have to put up with all my failures, with all my sorrow and anger at the world. She needs someone who can hold her up, not drag her down. It's all for the best, I tell myself.

So why do I find myself doubting everything?

I hear her call my name from far behind, her protests falling upon deaf ears. No. This is for her own good. It's not her, it's me.

"Jaune! Wait up!"

Why can't she understand why I'm doing this? I run faster, ignoring the pain from my heart and my pounding limbs. _Pyrrha, I'm sorry. For everything. Forgive me for this._

"Jaune! Please! Stop!"

I want to, Pyrrha. Believe me, I want to. But I can't.

The dark sky is shrouded by clouds, a light veneer of grey marring the pitch black shadows. I hear her footsteps slow, then stop, even as mine grow louder in volume. Has she finally realized why it's best that we part ways?

I took myself to Oxford Street, trying to right a wrong. But all that I've done is make everything worse, just like I always do. I'm a failure. I always was, and I always will be. All that she needs to do is realize that. I love her. I really do. And so now I'm letting her go.

I halt myself for a moment, a quiet choked-back sob emitting from behind me. _No. Do not look back._ Her voice wafts over in the still night air, a barely audible whisper that carries overtones of desperation. She speaks the words that I have been waiting a lifetime for, and the walls come crashing down.

"_Please, Jaune…I love you…"_

That does it. I can't stop myself anymore.

I slowly turn back, even as the words come unbidden to my lips. I hold them back, just barely.

_Pyrrha…I love you too._

For the first time in the better part of a day, I finally look upon my beautiful partner. Her yellow beanie clashes with her burgundy peacoat, a black scarf wrapped around her neck and a pair of fuzzy boots on her feet. Her vivid emerald eyes are focused on the ground, her full lips in a slight frown of uncertainty.

It takes every single ounce of my self-restraint not to rush over to her and embrace my teammate, wrapping my arms around her body and planting my lips upon hers. Given half a chance, I would.

As it is, I merely stand there, watching her from across the street. She turns her captivating gaze upon me, a look of sorrow upon her face.

I take a first, cautious step closer. Then another. And another.

Before I know it, I'm within arm's reach of the fiery redhead. Her eyes are fixated on mine, the corners of her mouth tilted slightly downwards. I want to turn her frown into a smile in the only way I know how, to express my love for her and all she stands for. Is it too soon, though? Will she forgive me for my transgressions? There's only one way to find out.

I know many languages, many ways to express myself and my feelings. But where words fail, only actions may suffice.

I take one final step forward, a wry half-smile on my face. I'm about to embrace her, when something even better happens. She hugs me first.

Her arms go around my torso, her face buried in my shoulder. I wrap myself around her, gently stroking her back as she cries.

"There, there. It's alright. …Pyrrha? It's okay. I'm here. No more running."

It's heartbreaking, really, to see the person you look up to in tears. It hurts just to know that the woman I love is in turmoil, even as she sobs into my shoulder. We stand there in the street for what seems like an eternity, holding each other with all that we've got.

Eventually, she speaks. She stumbles upon her words in an uncharacteristic rush, a light dusting of red colouring her cheeks. She chokes back a sob as she opens up to me, her true feelings pouring out for all to see.

"Jaune…you're not the one who should be sorry. I am. I'm sorry for not being a better teammate, for not supporting you better. I should have seen the signs, I should have known better. I should have noticed that you think so lowly of yourself, that you feel that you have such a burden on your shoulders.

"But Jaune...you're perfect just the way you are. It doesn't matter to me that you're not the strongest, that you're not the smartest. I don't care whether or not you're a good fighter, whether you're a good leader. I only care about you and who you are, nothing more.

"When I first met you, I was frankly relieved that you didn't recognize me. Instead of fawning over me like so many others, you valued me for myself, not my actions. You didn't care whether or not I was a champion, only that I was me. But even though you value others for who they are, you bring yourself down because of your perceived lack of actions.

"Nobody cares about that, though. In the end, all that matters is who you are. To me, you're the handsome and cute blond boy who's the greatest leader I've ever set eyes on. You have so much potential; you only need to see that for yourself."

A tear mars her perfect cheek, a dozen of its comrades waiting in her blazing emerald eyes. I fondly brush it away with my finger, revelling in the touch and the feeling of it all. She looks down, pulling back slightly. I let her go, but stop her before she gets too far.

"I…I…I love you, Jaune Arc. And I'm sorry if you don't feel the same way about me."

My hands on her shoulders, I act out of instinct. I lean over and place a gentle kiss on her forehead, bringing her in closer yet again.

She quivers at the touch, but does nothing. Holding my breath, I take another chance. My lips quickly brush her cheek, my own dyed a deep crimson. They taste salty from shed tears, but at the same time I can't help but want more. I pull away far too fast for my liking, but it pays to be cautious.

Her face lights up, a deep blush colouring her flawless features. She gives me a little smile, one that I gladly return.

Hey. I could make this work.

* * *

**Her**

I thought it was all over. I messed up, I failed, and he left me. It's no surprise, really. What have I done to deserve his love? Brought him down? Cast a shadow over him? I was too dumb to realize that he needed a chance to prove himself, too oblivious to recognize his silent pleas for help.

How could he still put up with me, after all that I've dragged him through? I ruined any chance that he ever could have loved me, all because I was too damn stupid to understand him.

But, despite it all, I can't help but hope that there is still a tiny spark of salvation glowing in the darkness. Could I make it up to him? Was there still an opportunity, however small, to repair our tattered friendship and shattered hearts?

I've had my dreams dashed far too many times to count, often enough that I should have learned to lower my expectations. But I can't help it. If not an optimist, then I'm a realist with a better outlook on life. If there's a chance, any chance at all, then I would be willing to take it.

So I find myself in the middle of a street in downtown Vale on this cold, windswept night, pouring out my heart to the man who captured it. All those bottled-up emotions that have been forced down suddenly erupted, venting my frustrations and sorrows to the winter air. Every single hidden apology, every single missed opportunity, all of my feelings came surging forth. I didn't expect anything, especially not from him of all people.

But redemption has to start from somewhere, and what better time than to start now, on the loneliest night of the year? If nothing more, an apology brings a wonderful sense of closure to everything. Maybe they'll bring him back to me, and take all of my troubles away. Maybe not. I don't care, as long as I let this all come out.

I stand in his arms, basking in his warmth. They feel like home, like a thousand little problems fading into nothing but happiness. My voice sounds muted and hollow to my ears, face buried in his shoulder as it is. I choke back a sob as I speak, rushing through the words in an attempt to make him understand.

"…_In the end, all that matters is who you are. To me, you're the handsome and cute blond boy who's the greatest leader I've ever set eyes on. You have so much potential; you only need to see that for yourself."_

I blink back tears, a single drop escaping and making its way down my cheek. I don't know why, but even after my stammered apologies…it feels as though I have left some things unsaid. And, while it may not always be the best to speak what's on your mind…I know what I have to say, whether I like it or not.

Jaune reaches over and delicately brushes the tear away, his touch gentle yet sparking a light show across my face. For a second, I'm tempted to just let him have his way with me. But no. I have to say it, and not even my love for the man can stand in its path.

I move back a step, his soft touch on my shoulder preventing me from escaping. Not that escaping is currently on my mind right now. Oh, far from it. I stare at the ground, neither willing nor able to look him in his cerulean eyes right now. The final words come forth in a shaky whisper, even as I brace myself for the inevitable rejection.

"_I…I…I love you, Jaune Arc. And I'm sorry if you don't feel the same way about me."_

I'm no stranger to rejection. I had my first crush when I was thirteen, young and still naïve in my first year at Sanctum. His name was Regen Tropfen, black haired and blue-eyed. I remember that, because it was the first thing I noticed about him. He fought with a rifle and a hunting lance, riding a pure black stallion into battle. He was a year ahead of me, top of his class and fighting for a spot in the Mistral Tournament.

I had admired him from across hallways, too nervous to even speak to him. He never noticed me, shy as I was. I was striving for his attention, though. Every second of my free time was spent training, in the hopes that he would walk by and be impressed. He never did, of course, but as a result of my attempts I had qualified for the Tournament. So had he, obviously, but I saw no sign of his recognition when I gazed at him.

Nonetheless, we both breezed through the competition. We met in the final round, my spear crossed with his. It was a good fight, blades flashing and bullets flying all over. I had managed to disable his horse with a shield-bash, confronting him with Milό in hand.

He lunged at me, lance extended. I had dodged to the side, stepping forward to render his spear useless. I had raised my sword, prepared to end it all and be crowned the victor, when…I hesitated. Maybe I was lost in his blue eyes, or captivated by the way his lips seemed so inviting. Either way, he recovered and knocked me away with a punch to the temple.

Despite that, he had forfeited the match, saying that I had the opportunity and that was all that counted. With that, I was named the champion of the Mistral Tournament. Afterwards, I had come up to him in the locker room and confessed my love for him. I had pleaded, I had apologized, I had poured out all my feelings for the boy, expecting him to sweep me off my feet and kiss me.

Instead, he had gently let me down, explaining why we couldn't be together and instead just be friends. I had accepted his reasoning, but that night I cried myself to sleep.

Oh sure, in my latter years in Sanctum, I could have had any guy I wanted. Gods know that they were falling for me by the dozens. Every single one, except for Regen.

So yes, I am no stranger to rejection. But with Jaune, I feel as if I'm in heaven. Without him, I'm lost and confused. Still, I wouldn't be surprised if he gives me a firm no.

Instead of backing away, however, he does the exact opposite. I feel his chapped lips upon my forehead, one hand brushing away my stray bangs. With his other, he gently tilts my chin up, and I find myself unable to resist him.

I'm still, stunned and uncertain as to what just happened. Perhaps he sees that, as he lightly pecks me on the cheek. He pulls back soon after that, a deep blush colouring both our faces.

There's a moment of silence as we both try to wrap our heads around this. Then he speaks, his voice low but earnest.

"And I love you too, Pyrrha Nikos. I'm sorry for everything, but most of all for not saying this all those months ago. You're the light to my darkness; without you, I'm nothing. I can't live without you, Pyrrha. You're my burning beacon of victory, and I would follow you to the end of Remnant. I'll be yours, if you'll be mine."

And with that, I can't take it any more. I leap forward to embrace him, our lips meeting in a moment that I don't think I will ever forget. His lips are warm, tasting vaguely of hot chocolate and my own sweet lip balm. His warmth surrounds me, threatens to swallow me whole, but I don't care. As long as I have Jaune, nothing else matters. Nothing.

We break off for a breath, admiring each other in the soft glow of the lights. His sapphire eyes are gleaming, messy blond hair poking out from beneath his toque. I can see myself in his sky blue orbs, a wide smile on my face.

"I love you," we say in sync.

And then we kiss again and again, not willing to let this precious time together go to waste.

We stand together in the middle of the street for what seems like an eternity, the night air still and silent. High above us, the Christmas lights keep shining on, even as the fireworks erupt inside me.

Eventually we relent, eyes meeting and cheeks tinged a light red. A single white snowflake, fragile yet intricate, floats down between the both of us, drawing our attention to the skies. The full moon sits just above the horizon, red and green and white lighting our snow-flecked path.

We walk back to Beacon hand-in-hand, simply admiring the beauty of the city on Christmas Eve.

Right before we enter the gates, Jaune's arms go back around my body, pulling me in for a deep embrace. He whispers as I'm warmed by him, a smile of contentment of both our faces.

"Merry Christmas, Pyrrha."

"Merry Christmas, Jaune."

**FIN**


End file.
